


Revelations

by honeylemontears



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeylemontears/pseuds/honeylemontears
Summary: When did Jacob first realize his soft spot for Rook?Not soon enough, apparently.
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can only ever see this angry mountain man as a big ol' softie with commitment issues and temper problems. Like, I know he's tamed wrath in the flesh, but my mind goes "nah he's just a softie".
> 
> Maybe one day I'll get his character right, but that day is definitely not today.

This wasn't the way she wanted to spend her night, huddled in front of a raging fire with a lumberjack of a man looming over her like an omen.

But of course, Rook's luck never stuck around long enough to settle deep in her heart. It always ran when she showed the smallest sliver of peace and comfort. So there she was, stuck in an empty cabin with a menace growling above her, and the risk of hypothermia laughing at her clattering teeth. 

Jacob was _livid_ . Followed her for miles, kept her in his sight despite the twists and turns she took, ready to prepare her for her second trial, only for the both of them to slide into icy waters, the rivers' current dragging Rook away to her inevitable death. It would've made his job easier, watching her struggle and gasp as the land tried so desperately to reclaim her. But he knew Joseph would never let him forget, and John? Oh, he'd kill Jacob _himself_. 

Now they were stuck together as the sun began to set during the Montana winter when the waters began to freeze over, and the wildlife was beginning its' journey to hibernation. 

Rook was lucky to an extent. She was lucky Jacob had been the one to follow her rather than one of his Chosen. Had it not been him, she knew she would be floating down the river, lips bruised and blue, with an arsenal embedded in her head. She was lucky to have a few dry matches in her bag and lucky enough to find dry wood in the corner of the cabin, calling her name like a siren.

The taste on her tongue soured as Jacob stormed around behind her, looking for anything to stop the bleeding on her thigh. Neither of them had any idea when it'd happened, or even how, but they both knew that if it wasn't controlled soon, she wouldn't be making it out of the cabin by daybreak. She had to bite back the bitter laugh that tried to claw its way past her lips. 

"Leg." Was all he said, and though she initially hesitated, Rook propped her leg onto his thigh after he'd claimed his place beside her. She bristled at the pressure he applied but chose to lie on the ground to hide her pained hisses. 

"Find anything to wear?" It was her attempt at small talk, a distraction from the searing pain that left her short of breath. He only grunted, and when she finally looked up at him, he pointed at the pile of old rags off to the side, just out of reach. 

_A yes, then._

Jacob wasn't going to be done with her thigh any time soon ( _though, from what she's seen, he's handy with his needlework_ ), so Rook propped herself up on her elbows and watched him. His face was marred, and she had half the mind to reach out and touch where his burns smeared with smooth skin. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he wove the needle in and out of her wound ( _which hurt like hell, if she was to be honest_ ). His bright blues dulled as he aimed all his attention at stitching her thigh perfectly; a stark contrast to the healed, crooked lines from the gashes she's had to suture herself. 

"Would ya stop staring so hard?" His voice, loud, commanding, like water gushing from a stream, startled her. In doing so, the needle prodded her and she didn't have the time to stifle her moan.

"I'm freezing to death here, Jacob. Let me get out of these clothes." He flashed a lazy smile, uncharacteristically domestic for the war veteran.

"If you needed help, all ya had to do was ask." He gently placed her injured leg back on the ground, standing above her ( _a fucking omen, she swore it_ ). The wind picked up outside the cabin, but he seemed to pay it no mind as he tugged at the hem of her shirt, seemingly asking for permission. When she said nothing, he gripped her waist and turned her, bringing their faces together so their noses were centimeters apart. 

"What happened to being polite?" Rook teased him despite herself. At the moment, she didn't see Jacob Seed, herald of Eden's gate. She only saw a man scarred from war and haunted by the ghosts of his past.

Maybe it should've concerned her, but she was tired and cold, and all she wanted was for the lumberjack before her to wrap his arms around her and keep her warm. 

"Tell me what you want, pup," was all it took for Rook to drop her defenses, leaving her entire being at his hand. 

"You, Jacob Seed. I want you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob's point of view? It kind of makes more sense if you read the first part (duh).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally going to post this, but I wrote it when I wrote chapter one, and finally decided "why the hell not?"
> 
> It either adds to the first part or ruins it. Up to you to decide.

Jacob wasn't sure what he had expected. He could see the exhaustion setting in long before it took her mind over, but he hadn't accounted for a very sleepy Rook to be so... _ honest _ .

So when she was finally out of her soaked clothes (he'll admit it; he took his time in helping her out of them, letting the cold numb her enough to no longer pose a threat) he wasn't sure what to do. She was dressed in what once was someone's hoodie and sweatpants and leaned up against him, sharing the heat of the fire like their own life support. 

His hands weren't sure what to do either, it seemed. One moment, they'd be around her waist, pulling her closer (to warm up, he'd tried to convince himself) and the next they were trailing up her arms, fascinated by the muscles he found despite her soft body. They eventually found their home around her torso, dragging her to lie with him as close to the fire as he was comfortable with (which, in hindsight, wasn't very near, but he'd swallow his fear if it meant Rook was no longer shivering). 

She managed to climb onto his chest despite how tired she'd been, and it was then that he really got a look at the toy soldier he'd been gifted. 

There wasn't much information on her, other than her title and occupation, so she was as much of a mystery to the Seeds as she was the Resistance. She had mentioned one small detail, though, and if he were to guess, she'd never meant for it to slip at all. 

"My friends back home would call me  _ ladybug _ ."

_ Ladybug _ .

He had laughed at the revelation, but it soon began to form naturally on his tongue. 

_ Rook? Oh, my little ladybug _ . 

Her nose was crooked. He chuckled and ran numb fingers up and down her back when it crinkled, clearly annoyed at the disturbance. 

30, he guessed. Not nearly as old as he was, but she looked closer to John's age. Maybe the curved barbell threaded through her right eyebrow helped in keeping her appearance youthful. Jacob's fingers now traced her features, thumb pausing over the raised, silvery scar on her forehead. It was recent, that much he could tell, and he couldn't help the frown that appeared on his face.

His hands were back on her waist, but now he marveled at the way they fit in her curves; a puzzle piece finally coming together. He wanted more, craved her as they slipped under her hoodie and rested on the small of her back. If she was awake, he'd been stabbed, or at least punched. But in the soft flames that flickered on her face, he saw contentment rather than fear.

* * *

Jacob wasn't sure when he'd dozed off. He had been too busy admiring the way his ladybug fit snug in his hands. He did, however, notice the empty space on his chest.

Groggy and dizzy, he managed to sit up and take in his surroundings. The sun was bright outside, but the curtains had been drawn shut, keeping as much light out as possible. On the floor lay his discarded clothing, still sopping wet from the river, but he didn't miss how they were now laid flat to dry.

The fire had gone cold long ago, but a small piece of paper had been resting near the fireplace. He reached for it, fingers burning as his thoughts began to race with ways to deflect her disgust. 

_ I have your jacket. Catch me if you want it back, lumberjack. _

He growled, crumpling her neat words in his hand before unceremoniously shoving his boots back on, growing increasingly frustrated as he discovered that his weapons had magically disappeared alongside her. 

"Son of a bitch." 


End file.
